


The Last Station

by qrantaire (rivenjolras)



Series: Fixin' Things [4]
Category: Fallout 4
Genre: Codenames, M/M, Major Spoilers, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-08
Updated: 2016-01-08
Packaged: 2018-05-12 16:12:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5672170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rivenjolras/pseuds/qrantaire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fixer’s eyes are on the prize, so to speak- he doesn’t turn to check that Deacon is following. He knows by now, Deacon always will.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Last Station

**Author's Note:**

> This can stand alone, but as usual, I recommend reading the previous installments. Major endgame spoilers.

Deacon accompanies Fixer as he always does, even in this. Deacon swallows the urge to pop a Stealth Boy and run as he follows him out of the molecular relay platform of the Institute. Fixer’s eyes are on the prize, so to speak- he doesn’t turn to check that Deacon is following. He knows by now, Deacon always will.

There is some resistance from duty-programmed synths and a few combat-trained scientists, but they all fall in Fixer’s wake. Fixer doesn’t bother with stealth like he normally does- there is no doubt from anyone that he is here. What really surprises Deacon is the grip Fixer has on his heaviest shotgun- Fixer’s expression is bedrock, but the shotgun indicates that this is very, very personal.

They enter what appears to be some living quarters. Deacon’s eyes are on the terminal, until he realizes Fixer has stopped just in front of him. Deacon notices the man on the bed for the first time, and sucks in a breath. The bed looks more akin to a coffin.

Fixer’s steps are heavy as he approaches. Deacon stays back. Some things are just meant to be experienced alone. Deacon tries not to listen to how Fixer’s voice is cracking as he has his last words with his son. Deacon tries to think of the objective, he thinks of poetry, he thinks of the pieces he’s going to have to pick up when it’s all over. In the end, Deacon can’t block it out.

“Tell me then. Under what righteous pretense have you justified this atrocity?” The man spits. Fixer gives an answer, mentioning the “greater good”- something Deacon knows for a fact that Fixer doesn’t believe in. It doesn’t convince Shaun, either.

Shaun’s eyes fall onto Deacon, still lingering near the staircase, then back to Fixer. Something in Shaun’s eyes changes, and then he understands. Deacon laughs to himself. _No, old man_. He thinks. _You’ve got it all wrong_.

In spite of it all, Fixer convinces Shaun to relinquish the password, no threatening involved. Shaun has nothing more to say, but as Fixer puts in the code necessary to evacuate- Shaun’s eyes are on Deacon with burning hatred. Deacon is sure Shaun is picturing him as the suave, sexy Top Agent, whispering sinful sedition into his father’s ears as he touches him, takes him. Deacon supposes that could have been true, perhaps, in a world where Deacon wasn’t putty in Fixer’s hands.

They leave Shaun and the room behind. Deacon watches Fixer for signs of distress, for anything that would have indicated he was a man underneath all that armor. Fixer doesn’t look back, but Deacon picks up a tightness in his jaw that wasn’t there before. In a moment, it was gone.

Tinker Tom’s voice rings on the speaker system, giving instructions. Deacon smiles to himself- Tinker Tom sounds exhilarated, so proud to play his part in the downfall of the Commonwealth’s Greatest Evil. Fixer doesn’t react, doesn’t give any indication that he’s even heard. Fixer acts mechanically, speaks only when necessary. Everything after that is just steps, completing objectives. Plant the bomb, then run like hell. Easy.  


Or, it should have been. Until a child’s voice rang out, begging, pleading, calling Fixer “dad”. Deacon audibly gasps. Fixer shakes. He questions the child- the synth version of Shaun- his voice stopping just short of hysterical. The child is confused, and Fixer, Fixer could never hurt a child. Especially not the shade of the child that should have been his. 

“Right. Of course I’m your father.” Fixer says thickly. Deacon’s gentle heart breaks for him. Deacon is grateful for the way Tinker takes over, promising Fixer (and Shaun himself) that he will get the both of them home safe. Fixer steps onto the relay, and Deacon falls in besides him, closer than strictly necessary. The back of his hand brushes against Fixer’s. Fixer returns to stone, and does not respond.

Blinding blue gives way to the city skyline. Deacon blinks owlishly. Desdemona is there, poised as if she did this sort of thing often.

The detonator is there, unassuming and ready. No one moves. It’s clear that Fixer is the one expected to be the grim fucking reaper. Deacon is unsure if Fixer even wants the honor. If Desdemona even grasps the weight of pressing your finger down on the instrument that will destroy your baby boy. No, Deacon wouldn’t expect Des to show any sign of understanding.

Fixer brings his hand down on the detonator like a hammer. Deacon speculates that’s probably the only way he could bring himself to do it. Though, he might be projecting.

Everyone else looks away as the telltale explosion happens. But Deacon’s eyes are on Fixer, who is staring directly into the mushroom cloud. He’s sure that the light burns, but looking away would probably burn him too. It still isn’t safe to look, but Deacon steps up beside Fixer to gaze with him in a gesture of solidarity. His glasses would probably keep him from going totally blind, maybe.

Deacon’s shoulder brushes against Fixer’s, warm and real. A beat, then Fixer’s hand grasps his firmly, without hesitation.

It’s the end of it all, and Deacon is smiling.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much, Deaconvevo, for your suggestions and commentary. I couldn't do this without you. Thank you all for reading, you can find me on my tumblr [here](http://qrantaire.tumblr.com). Follow me for constant crying and Fallout blogging!


End file.
